


Or I’ll Never Talk To You Again

by somethingscarlet13



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, House Cleaning, Kissing, M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingscarlet13/pseuds/somethingscarlet13
Summary: When Aziraphale starts using “I’ll never talk to you again” for everything, Crowley thinks he’s bluffing, but Aziraphale is not.





	Or I’ll Never Talk To You Again

It takes Crowley a long time to realize his angel might be bluffing.

Ever since the almost end of the world, ever since Aziraphale told Crowley to do something or he’d never talk to him again and then Crowley had done something, the angel had been using it for everything.

“ _Crowley, come do your share of the dishes or I’ll never talk to you again_.”

“ _Crowley, put that book back in its proper place or I’ll never talk to you again_.”

“ _Crowley, help me with the dusting or I’ll never talk to you again_.”

And every time, Crowley came running. The very idea of Aziraphale never speaking to him again made him weak and filled him with dread. It was the worst thing that could ever happen to him.

But the angel had been using it more and more often, and Crowley was beginning to feel like a fool. Aziraphale would use the threat for nearly everything, and Crowley was starting to believe more and more that it was an empty threat.

So the next time the angel used it, Crowley didn’t move.

He had returned to human form from snake form and had left his little tube of a snake sweater that Aziraphale had made for him on the floor.

“Crowley, come pick your sweater up off the floor!” Aziraphale called from the bedroom.

“Later, angel,” Crowley shouted back.

“No, now!” came his angel’s response. “Do it now, Crowley, or I’ll never talk to you again.”

But Crowley, who would usually come running the moment he heard those six little words, did nothing.

These was a long silence that followed, and Crowley could hear it as Aziraphale put the sweater away himself.

“You use that threat far too often, angel,” Crowley said when Aziraphale entered the room. “Surely you had to know that one day it wouldn’t work.”

Aziraphale said nothing.

“Angel?” Crowley prodded, watching as Aziraphale took a book and sat down beside him on the couch to read.

Still nothing.

“Angel, come on.” Crowley nudged Aziraphale with his foot. “This isn’t funny.”

But Aziraphale didn’t say a word.

It was then that Crowley realized he had made a terrible mistake.

*****

Aziraphale not speaking to him was worse than Crowley could have ever imagined.

He didn’t realize just how much he loved hearing Aziraphale’s voice until it was gone, didn’t realize how much he loved it when Aziraphale called him “my dear” until he wasn’t.

So, of corse, Crowley began to do anything and everything he could think of to get Aziraphale to speak.

He stopped doing any and all chores around the house, so sure that Aziraphale would scold him and force him to help, but he didn’t. Instead, the angel did all of the housework, staying silent the entire time.

He rearranged all of Aziraphale’s books, putting them all out of order and stacked on top of each other wildly, sure that Aziraphale would get on his case about it, but he never did. The angel simply returned all his books to their rightful place in silence.

Crowley got rid of the kitchenware next, placing all of Aziraphale’s mugs outside, so sure that the angel would yell at him for it, but instead Aziraphale simply drank his cocoa from a bowl that night.

Next, Crowley began interrupting Aziraphale when he read. Crowley would turn into his snake form and slither up into Aziraphale’s lap before curling up directly on top of the angel’s open book. But all Aziraphale would do was glare at Crowley before standing up and going to bed.

Nothing worked. Absolutely nothing.

It had been almost two weeks, and Crowley was beside himself. He needed Aziraphale to forgive him, had to hear his angel’s voice or he would die, he was sure of it.

“Aziraphale,” he pleaded one morning during breakfast while Aziraphale read the newspaper in silence. “Aziraphale please, what do I have to do to get you to talk to me again?”

Aziraphale took a sip of his coffee.

“Please, I’ll do anything!”

Aziraphale turned the newspapers page.

Crowley felt like crying.

As Aziraphale left without saying goodbye, Crowley became determined. Today was the day he would make Aziraphale talk to him today. He’d do it or die trying.

*****

Cleaning sucked.

Everything was always so dirty. Sure you would clean, but then the same thing you just cleaned would get dirty again. Crowley didn’t see the point.

But point or no point, Crowley was doing it anyways. He was going to make the house look magnificent.

He had already cleaned the bathroom, the bedroom, and the kitchen, only realizing halfway through the kitchen that he could just miracle the place clean.

The idea was tempting, but Crowley decided against it. He would slave away at this house himself, no miracles involved.

He was currently working on the living room, organizing Aziraphale’s books _just right_. He had to get this perfect, he _had_ to. Otherwise Aziraphale would never talk to him again, _ever_.

Being alone while cleaning your house gives you a lot of time to think, and what Crowley was thinking was that he was an idiot.

This entire thing never would have happened if he had just picked up his snake sweater. Doing so would have taken, what, less than a minute? And now Aziraphale, sweet, lovely Aziraphale, wasn’t speaking to him and it was all his fault _it was all his fault_.

Crowley’s thoughts just made him work harder. If this didn’t make Aziraphale talk to him again, he didn’t know what he’d do. Cry, probably. Yes, that was it. He’d cry. It’s not as if he could do anything else.

*****

Aziraphale always arrived home at five o’clock, and today was no different.

As he walked up the front path, he noticed that the plants and flowers growing up the side of the home looked extra beautiful today. Had Crowley done that?

He had to stop himself from calling out “ _I’m home_!” when he came in, remembering that he was still not on speaking terms with Crowley.

Not speaking to Crowley, however, was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

He wanted to, oh he wanted to so badly. Crowley’s heartbroken look every time he tried to get Aziraphale to talk was like a knife twisting in his belly.

Speaking of Crowley, the demon was standing in the middle of the living room when Aziraphale entered it, the angels angel wing mug cupped in his hands.

“I cleaned the house for you,” Crowley said, stepping forwards and handing Aziraphale’s mug to him.

It was warm, and when Aziraphale looked down, he found it was full of cocoa.

“The entire house,” Crowley was saying. “I scrubbed it from top to bottom and spent a good two hours yelling at the plants outside to make them look good. I organized your bookshelf exactly the way you like it, and I even washed and ironed all your clothes. And before you ask, no I didn’t use a single miracle, look.”

Crowley held out his hands. They were red and raw and even had a few half healed scratches on them.

“So what do you say? Will you talk to me now?” The demons sunglasses were off and Aziraphale could see that he was tearing up. “Please, Aziraphale. _Please_.”

Aziraphale took a sip of the cocoa. It was delicious.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said.

Crowley gasped happily and threw his arms around Aziraphale’s neck. “I did, Aziraphale, I did, I did.” He pressed a kiss to the top of the angel’s head. “I missed your voice,” he said softly. “I thought I’d never hear it again.”

Aziraphale moved his head to kiss Crowley on the lips. “And I missed talking to you,” he replied, his and Crowley’s foreheads resting together.

“I would have made you dinner too, but I don’t know how to cook,” Crowley admitted, and Aziraphale laughed. “Can I just take you to the Ritz instead?”

Aziraphale kisses him again. “That sounds lovely, my dear, but first let me finish my cocoa.”

“Deal.”

And so it was.


End file.
